


Definitely Not Junkless

by FagurFiskur



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Dean Winchester, Car Sex, Cas doesn't know how to kiss but wants to jump right into anal, Dean asks stupid questions and it leads to sex, Dean postures, Emotionally Repressed Dean, First Time, M/M, Season/Series 04, Top Castiel, Virgin Castiel, but Cas sees right through him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-19 12:40:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7361860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FagurFiskur/pseuds/FagurFiskur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’re not junkless, are you?”</p>
<p>From the corner of his eye, Dean can see Cas turning to give him a strange look. “What?”</p>
<p>“Junkless,” Dean repeats. He rubs his palms on his thighs; they’re already sweating and he’s barely a few words into this conversation. What the hell is he doing? “Like Alan Rickman in Dogma?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Definitely Not Junkless

**Author's Note:**

> idek i just felt like some s4 destiel so i wrote it. check my tumblr (perlukafari) for short drabbles or to leave me writing prompts!
> 
> big thanks to avyssoseleison for all the read-throughs and constant reassurances!

“You’re not junkless, are you?”

The words cut into the uncomfortable silence that had settled over the Impala. It’s just Dean and Cas for once, Sam sleeping after his twenty-hour research binge for their latest hunt in some dinky motel a few miles away (or at least, Dean hopes he’s sleeping. For all he knows he might be off with Ruby somewhere. The fact that he can’t be sure makes his chest ache but there’s nothing to be done about it now).

The original plan was for Dean to rest too, but then Cas had showed up talking about seals. What he failed to mention when he dragged Dean from his semi-comfortable bed is that they can’t strike for another couple of hours, so now they’re waiting in the Impala. It’s only been half an hour but Dean is already getting sick of waiting, which translates into some really stupid thinking that he should know better than to voice out loud. And yet here they are.

From the corner of his eye, Dean can see Cas turning to give him a strange look. “What?”

“Junkless,” Dean repeats. He rubs his palms on his thighs; they’re already sweating and he’s barely a few words into this conversation. What the hell is he doing? “Like Alan Rickman in Dogma?”

 "I… don’t understand.”

 Dean huffs. “Do you have a dick?”

 “...Yes,” Castiel says, in a voice that clearly means ‘why didn’t you just say that to begin with’. “My vessel is in perfect condition, including the genitalia.”

 “Huh.” Dean heaves a long sigh through his nose. “That makes sense.”

 “Why do you ask?”

  _Yeah, Dean, why the fuck would you ask?_ “Dunno. Just curious.”

 “About my dick.”

Dean swallows, feeling an odd bolt of heat go through him at the sound of _Cas_ saying that word. It’s ridiculous; his own dick has been pretty much out of commission since he got out of Hell. There’s no way he’s getting hot under the collar because an uptight Angel of the Lord wearing a former sales provider from the Midwest said a mildly dirty word. 

“I guess so, yeah.”

Cas is quiet for a long while and if Dean didn’t feel like he’s about to throw up his heart he’d be pretty pleased with the fact that he apparently just shocked an angel into silence.

“Why?” Cas finally asks, with such gravitas in his voice it sounds like he’s asking about the meaning of life or whatever and not if Dean is perving on him.

Which he _isn’t._

“Nevermind,” Dean mumbles. “It’s nothing.”

He dares another glance at Cas, who isn’t looking at him like Dean expected but staring into the distance, looking as if he’s listening intently to something. Suddenly, there’s a break in his stern demeanor as his eyes widen just a fraction. Then he _is_ looking in Dean’s direction and if Dean didn’t know better, he’d say he looks _nervous_.

“Jimmy is wondering if you wish to have intercourse with me.” Cas lips twitch in annoyance. “With _us_.”

Dean gives a hoarse sound that’s probably technically a laugh. “Jimmy?” he says because it’s about the only thing he can think to say that won’t result in him spontaneously combusting out of embarrassment. “Your vessel?”

Cas nods slowly. “He says he doesn’t mind. He is feeling sexually frustrated as I haven’t…” Cas pauses, “As I haven’t so much as cleaned his pipes in months.”

His brows furrow, and Dean can just tell he’s wondering what the hell plumbing has to do with sex.

“As tempting as it is to serve as some dude’s mastubatory aid, I’m gonna have to pass,” Dean says, sarcastically. Because it’s not tempting. At all. “I’m only into women.”

Cas gives him _a look_. “That’s not true.”

Dean swallows, his mouth suddenly desert-dry. He wants to ask but he’s also pretty sure he _doesn’t_ want to know how an angel would know a secret he’s kept so buried he’s never even acted on it without the pretense of doing it for someone else’s satisfaction in exchange for money.

“Either way,” he mutters, “there’s two of you in there and only one of you is interested.”

Cas doesn’t reply but he suddenly seems very fascinated with his lap.

 “You _are_ interested,” Dean says, disbelieving.

 Cas glances furtively at him. “I…”

 “Um.”

Dean licks his lips. He doesn’t miss the way Cas’ eyes drop down to follow the movement or the way he shifts in his seat. It’s made all the more obvious by the fact that Cas doesn’t really move unless it’s necessary - most times, when he’s still he’s _still_. It’s creepy as hell but it also makes it all the more interesting that he is moving now. By Cas standards, he’s practically squirming. 

“We don’t need to leave this car for another eighty-four minutes,” Cas finally says. If Dean didn’t know him, or if he had higher standards or self-esteem, he might be insulted by the implication that sex with him is just a way to pass the time.

“We don’t,” he says instead. There’s heat pooling low in his gut, his skin already tingling with the promise of being touched soon. “You wanna, uh… get in the back?" 

No sooner has he finished speaking than he finds himself horizontal in the Impala’s backseat, pinned between the leather cushions and Cas. Dean sucks in a sharp breath, suddenly very aware of the kind of creature he just propositioned. Cas isn’t just some closeted dude in a gas station bathroom with fifty bucks to spare, he’s a literal fucking Angel of the fucking Lord and he’s capable of throwing Dean’s sorry ass back down to hell if he makes the wrong move.

That knowledge should _not_ be a turn-on but, hey, Dean’s always been a little twisted, even before Alastair got his hands on him.

“Warn a guy next time,” he says weakly. 

Cas frowns down at him. “I apologize. It seemed prudent not to waste any time.”

“You think you’ll last that long, huh?”

“I don’t…” Cas trails off and Dean’s got a feeling that Jimmy spoke up again because he starts _blushing_.

“First time?” Dean guesses, though at this point it’s been made pretty fucking clear.

“It’s Jimmy’s first time with a man as well,” Cas says, almost defensively. “But he does think you’re very, erm, pretty.”

Dean glares. “Tell Jimmy to go fuck himself.”

Cas pauses, like he’s actually fucking doing it, then says, “He says there’s no need, as you are about to do that for him.”

The petty part of Dean wants to call the whole thing off but this is the first time in weeks he’s been even close to an erection, so he reaches for the lapels of Cas’ coat and pulls him closer instead. There’s a brief moment where Cas doesn’t so much as budge, before he seems to decide to allow Dean to move him.

“I guess we start with kissing?” Dean says, uncertain, as if he’s not the one with the most experience and the one calling the shots right now.

Cas nods and moves the rest of the way, bridging the gap between them with a soft touch of his lips against Dean’s. He puckers them but that aside doesn’t move, because of course he has no fucking clue how to even kiss, and Jesus, how did Dean get himself into this? He takes the lead, shifting just slightly so that their lips slide together. Cas mirrors the movement perfectly, which is kind of creepy, but then he seems to fall into following his body’s instinct as he presses closer and nips at Dean’s lower lip.

Dean leans away and Cas chases his lips, one hand landing on Dean’s waist, the other coming up to cup his left shoulder. The touch sends what feels like a warm electric current through Dean, spreading down his limbs, and for a moment it feels like Cas is touching him _everywhere_. Dean shudders and moans, hips twitching instinctively, his head swimming and his dick at full mast.

Cas moves his hand down and the sensation disappears.

“What the hell?” Dean pants, tremors still running through him.

“I wasn’t aware it would feel this overwhelming,” Cas says, not sounding very sorry about it. He looks dazed, cheeks flushed and pupils blown wide. “The mark I left on your shoulder creates a direct channel from my grace to your soul. I only wished to increase the intimacy between us.”

The word _intimacy_ sends a different kind of shock through Dean and he has to resist the sudden urge to push Cas away. He wants to tell Cas that this isn’t _intimacy_ , it’s just two (technically three) guys helping each other out, but the words die in his throat.

“Just- no more soul groping from now on,” he finally says. “We stick to regular sexy touching, or no touching at all.”

Cas looks a little forlorn at that but he nods. “I liked the kissing.”

“Then keep at it,” Dean encourages, grasping the back of Cas’ neck to pull him in again.

For a couple of minutes they don’t move any further than that, lips locked and hands roaming but still safely above the belt (and away from Dean’s shoulder). Then Dean breaks their kiss to trail his lips down, grinning when he nips at Cas’ neck and causes him to gasp.

“What else would you like?” he asks, lips still pressed against Cas’ skin. He tastes strange; his skin is salty with sweat but there’s an undercurrent of something unfamiliar - a taste almost like the feeling in the air after lightning has struck. 

“I want to touch you,” Cas gasps. “And I want you to touch me.”

“We’re already touching,” Dean teases, hand trailing lower on Cas’ back as he does so. “You’re gonna have to be more specific."

“I wish to-” Dean chooses that moment to grab Cas’ ass, just to hear him choke on his words “-I wish to penetrate you.”

Dean freezes. He leans back, giving Cas an incredulous look. He can’t have heard him right, can he?

“Anally,” Cas helpfully adds.

“Uh…” Dean is suddenly _very_ aware of the fact that Cas put himself on top. “That’s kind of… I was thinking more along the lines of a handjob.”

“We can do that too.”

“No we can’t!” Dean blurts. “Jesus fuck, Cas.”

“I want to be closer to you,” Cas says, which is all kinds of _wrong_. He shouldn’t want to be touching Dean at all, shouldn’t want to sully himself like this. “That is the purpose of sex, is it not?”

_No_ , Dean wants to shout. Or, sometimes, but not in their case. Christ, he feels like a villain from a Victorian novel, deflowering some naive ingenue who doesn’t understand the difference between eternal love and a quick roll in the sheets.

“It’s just- it’s just supposed to be about feeling good,” he says but it sounds like a weak argument, even to his own ears. “And about making someone else feel good. That’s all.”

Cas just looks at him, blue eyes roaming over Dean’s face, as if searching for some hidden meaning to Dean’s words. “Alright.”

He doesn’t sound super convinced but it’s good enough for Dean. “Good. Just so long as we’re clear on that. Also,” he says, holding up his palm to stop Cas as he leans in for another kiss. “What the hell made you think I would bottom?”

“You enjoy it,” Cas says simply.

Dean swallows down the automatic response of _no I don’t_. He should probably know better than to try and lie to Cas at this point. “We don’t even have any lube or condoms.”

“We won’t need them.”

“Like hell we don’t!” Dean sputters. “I’m not letting you fuck my ass dry.”

“I won’t.”

Rather than explaining how those two statements aren’t mutually exclusive, Cas leans in again, this time carefully trailing his lips down Dean’s neck. The touch is whisper-soft but makes Dean’s skin tingle with the warmth of it and with a low sigh he gives into it. In any case, he trusts Cas not to hurt him (not that he should, because Cas is too strong and too much of an unknown entity).

He lets his hands wander again. Cas mimics his movements, which is still kind of freaky but when his thumb brushes over Dean’s right nipple he finds it hard to care. He reaches down with one hand to undo Cas’ pants, but as soon as he grabs the zipper the pants disappear into thin air.

“Isn’t that kind of an abuse of your powers?” Dean breathes. He usually likes taking his time with the foreplay, removing his partner’s clothes one at a time, but something about the casual display of power really does it for him.

In response, Cas grins slightly at him, and then Dean’s pants and shirt are suddenly gone as well, leaving him in his underwear alone.

“You’ll be able to get those back, right?”

“They are in the trunk,” Cas assures him. He lowers his head, kissing a soft trail down Dean’s chest and, after a brief contemplative pause, latching his lips around Dean’s nipple and sucking gently, flicking the other one with his thumb again.

“Fuck,” Dean moans, instinctively arching into the touch. His nipples have always been a sensitive spot for him, and it figures that Cas would know that - he didn’t even know how to kiss but he probably knows Dean’s body better than he does himself.

“That is the intention,” Cas mutters, running one hand down Dean’s side and grasping his thigh.

“Yeah, I’m still not so-” the words get caught in Dean’s throat as Cas bites down on his nipple, “s-so sure.”

Cas doesn’t respond but continues kissing a trail down Dean’s body, not stopping until he reaches Dean’s underwear. Dean glances down, and sees that Cas is staring quizzically at his groin.

“Trouble?”

“I’m not entirely sure how to continue,” Cas admits. “I’ve been drawing on this vessel’s experience and my own knowledge of your body, but…"

“Jimmy wasn’t into dick, huh?”

Cas tilts his head. “He says you’re very crass but essentially correct.”

Dean considers teasing Cas for a moment but at this point he’d be teasing himself just as much, if not more, and he’s tired of waiting. He can’t remember the last time he wanted to have sex this badly.

“If you’re gonna fuck me,” he says, “then you need to stretch me with your fingers first. With lube."

Cas nods determinedly and in the next instant Dean’s boxers are gone. Dean has all of a second to contemplate how underdressed he feels, with Cas completely clothed save for his pants, then Cas is prodding at his asshole. His finger is somehow slick (it figures the dick would take advantage of his angel mojo for this, too), and he doesn’t waste much time before just sticking it inside Dean.

It’s a stretch, and Dean tenses automatically at the intrusion. “Gently,” he hisses.

He feels Cas nod against his thigh again. His finger pokes curiously around, pumping in and out of Dean in slow, tiny movements. It takes a few moments for the uncomfortable feeling to go away but soon enough Dean is getting used to the stretch.

“It helps if you touch my dick, too,” he points out. He’s not usually such a selfish lover but, hey, Cas is here to learn.

He seems to be enjoying himself enough, anyway. He grabs Dean’s dick and pumps it a couple of times, his grip too gentle to be anything but a tease, but then he’s pushing another finger into Dean and whatever complaints Dean had die on his tongue. Cas hasn’t found his prostate yet but just the feeling of being filled is such a turn-on that Dean is already leaking.

“You’re wet,” Cas observes, running his thumb over the head of Dean’s cock.

“You don’t say that to guys,” Dean mutters, hiding his warming face in the crook of his elbow.

“But you are.” Cas sounds somehow amazed at that. “You’re _leaking_.”

Dean just barely bites back a whine but then Cas finds his prostate and he can’t help the high, almost wounded sound he makes. His dick twitches and Cas tightens his grip, seemingly instinctively.

“You’re so warm inside,” Cas marvels. “I knew, but I didn’t…”

Dean nods. He gets what Cas is saying; knowing is one thing, but experiencing is quite another. Dean knew, theoretically, that guys have prostates but having someone touching his own, prodding at it with sure, talented fingers or, _god_ , brushing against it with a cock, is in a whole ‘nother ballpark.

Cas adds another finger, this time a little too quickly, but as soon as that uncomfortable pinch returns it disappears.

“Are you using your mojo to make me looser?” Dean asks, flushing at the implication of his own words.

“Perhaps just slightly,” Cas admits.

Dean should probably be pissed at this blatant tampering with his body but Cas has started zoning in on his prostate, brushing past it every time he pumps his fingers in and out, sending sparks of heat running through Dean.

“Just fuck me already,” Dean moans, arching his lower back into Cas’ movements.

It makes him feel kind of slutty but whatever, he is a slut, and it works anyway as Cas hurriedly removes his fingers. He grasps both of Dean’s legs, and it’s not until he’s positioned his dick at Dean’s hole that Dean realizes he’s gotten rid of his own underwear.

“Next time, we really should do this the people way,” he says.

“Next time?” Cas asks, but before Dean can give any response or even take a moment to panic at his slip he’s pushing inside.

He goes so incredibly slow, probably savoring every inch as he sinks inside Dean. There’s a hint of pressure and then the head of Cas’ dick pops past Dean’s rim. Dean holds back a moan at the sensation.

“Please don’t do that,” Cas says, voice low and hoarse and absolutely _wrecked._ He’s holding still, which must take massive effort for him because he’s already trembling slightly, just from getting the head of his dick inside of Dean. “Let me hear you. Your sounds won’t be heard outside of this car.”

“Then make me scream,” Dean shoots back, lifting his hips so that Cas sinks another couple of inches inside of him.

He doesn’t expect Cas to take the bait but he’s proven wrong a moment later when Cas grasps his thighs tighter and then sinks into him in one, smooth movement. He doesn’t pause to savor it, either, but keeps fucking into Dean slowly but steadily. His head drops onto Dean’s shoulder, and Dean shudders at the warm breath hitting his skin. As far as he knows, angels don’t even need to breathe, but Cas seems to be going on autopilot now, following is vessel’s instincts as he drives into Dean.

Dean tilts his hips up but Cas keeps him pretty much pinned, unable to move except for a couple of inches. It probably shouldn’t be as hot as it is, considering Dean’s history with being restrained, but the fact is he _trusts_ Cas beyond any reason he can think of. He feels safe, trapped and cradled by Cas, feeling him move inside him and on top of him, mindlessly taking pleasure in Dean’s body.

Dean cups back of Cas’ neck in one hand, grasping for Cas’ shoulder with his other and wordlessly urging him to go faster, _harder_ , moaning shamelessly when he does. Cas dick is brushing past his prostate, seemingly at random, as Cas is getting too lost in sensation to pay much thought to how Dean’s doing, and somehow that makes Dean even more impossibly turned on.

The car fills with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and the low, almost animalistic groans Cas is emitting and the breathy, punched-out sounds Dean realizes he’s making. Cas’ thrusts grow erratic as he gets closer to coming, and Dean feels close to the edge himself without tipping over since his dick sits untouched between them. With a stuttered moan Cas begins to come, cock twitching inside Dean right against his prostate, hips moving in little figure-eights. Then he’s reaching for Dean’s shoulder and grasping the hand-print, and Dean’s vision blacks out as he comes.

The next thing he’s aware of his Cas pulling his softening dick out of him, hissing softly as his head pops past Dean’s rim.

“Fuck,” Dean says weakly. His hand is still on the back of Cas’ neck and at some point he’s started playing with the soft hairs at the base of it with his fingers, but it’s nice and he doesn’t feel like stopping. “Not bad for your first time.”

Cas hums, patting clumsily at Dean’s thighs. He looks up, into Dean’s eyes, and for a moment Dean finds himself caught in his gaze. It’s such an oddly affectionate look, somehow even more intimate than Cas’ dick inside his ass, and Dean only lasts a moment before he has to look away.

“Definitely not junkless,” he mutters, just for something to say.

Cas doesn’t answer, probably because he’s not an emotionally constipated idiot like Dean, instead leaning in and pressing one last, soft kiss against Dean’s lips.

“Did Jimmy enjoy himself?” Dean asks once they part, because he can’t just let the moment be.

“I believe so,” Cas says gravely. “Although he is fairly incoherent at the moment.”


End file.
